Our Story
by theotherweisz
Summary: Aaron Hotchner was never an easy man to deal with, I knew it the moment I laid my eyes on him. However, he soon realised that I was no easy woman either. We met in the most ordinary circumstances but it soon led to an extraordinary relationship, one which few foresaw. This is our story laid bare in front of you.


1

"So how did the two of you meet?"

Emily asked a seemingly innocuous question, perhaps a little pointed but definitely innocuous. How _did_ we meet? Funnily enough, I had absolutely no idea. By definition, meeting someone entails looking at him or her the first time or the first interaction. In Aaron and my case, these two were completely separate instances, both of which left me angry and frustrated.

* * *

"Elena Rivers?" Bureau Chief Johnson held out a hand to me, "Welcome to the Behavioural Analysis Unit." I had always known that I'd make it here someday, but that someday happened a lot sooner than I imagined. I took a glance across the room, the large floor was populated by dozens of men sitting or rather perched on tiny desks. Almost each of them had identical looking files in their hands, some were standing across from a massive whiteboard which had particulars of an ongoing case – _Time of death, Victim's name, Possible suspects. _The only thing consistent in the room, aside from atrocious black jackets, was the gender of the population. _"Ascribed and evident gender"_, I corrected myself. Studying psychology in college alerts one to the nuances of sex and gender and I was determined not to assume anything. However, it was pretty evident by the long stares I was getting that some people had already seen and adjudged their opinion of me.

I took a deep breath and took Agent Johnson's hand, "Thank you, sir". My voice rang out with a clarity that was not matched by my mind. That was okay though, my body rarely ever kept up with the rapid movement of my brain. Earlier, the information input would've left me immobile but over time I have learnt to accustom my body to work at its own pace, the fallout of that being the permanent dazed look on my face. "Here's your desk, you can meet the team later they are out on an assignment at the moment." I nodded my thanks and he left me at what was henceforth going to be my living space for a long long time.

Left alone at my desk, I recalled the day that eventually led to this one. I had just given a lecture on _Sexism and Crime: How gender based microaggressions eventually lead to violent sex crimes, _when he who is practically the God of Criminal Psychology approached me. "Interesting analysis, that." Jason Gideon calling your research interesting was stuff of legends and I was a mere mortal who had been rendered mute at that point. "Your insight into the psychology that goes into gender based crime is unprecedented, as is evident by the various papers you have written for the psych journals" he continued, "Any field experience?" Thankfully, at this point my vocal chords decided to work again, "No sir, I think I am more suited to the research arena" I answered. "I thought so too, but I realized that I helped more with my work in the BAU." I felt a spark of anger and I retorted back, "With all due respect sir, without the research that universities put in, you would not have any tools to practice with." I absolutely hated anyone who undermined research, it was what I did and did well. Even Jason Gideon himself could not insult it. He held his hands up in mock defeat with a smirk on his face, "I am a researcher too Miss Rivers, I just feel like you will have a lot to contribute on the field," He paused to take out his card, "Give me a call if you change your mind."

That was six months ago, and after intensive BAU preparatory classes I saw myself seated at the desk being gawked at. I knew there were few women in the FBI, I just did not expect to be the first woman ever in the BAU. Frankly, that didn't say much for the unit. I could hear whispers all around me, _"Not a secretary" "She is a Special Agent" "Not even Liasions". _I just wanted to yell that yes I had breasts and a vagina, but I realised that will only worsen the situation. Instead I chose to go through the case files that I was required to study. Jason Gideon's unit was meticulous if nothing else and for one tiny moment I felt overwhelmed. I mean to be fair I was not an FBI agent, up until six months ago I was just a regular professor of Criminal Psychology at the University of Virginia. Sitting there at Quantico surrounded by the black coats was a surreal experience to put it mildly.

I was so wrapped up in my mini anxiety attack that I did not notice him approaching my desk, not until he thrust a hand right in front of my face. "I'm special agent Aaron Hotchner," he said impatiently. The hand and the introduction abruptly broke my train of thought and my vocal chords refused to coordinate, again. I mutely held his hand and took the opportunity to study his face which was becoming increasingly impatient. As a rule, I disliked men. They were arrogant, cocky and were built to exert a certain sense of power on perceived weaker beings, in most cases on women. They had a superiority complex and almost all men that I had encountered in my life had handed me the shorter end of the stick. Correction, all men had. Aaron Hotchner was exactly the kind of man I would dislike – he had a handsome face framed with cropped black hair, a strong, athletic build and the most annoying part were his intelligent eyes. Stupid men can be dealt with, intelligent men are much harder to confront.

"Elena Rivers," I finally squeaked out and I hated myself for it. In the fraction of a second that Agent Hotchner had caught me off guard, I had allowed him the opportunity to exert power on me. Something, that I vowed will never happen again. "Gideon wants to meet the whole team in the conference room, since you're new I was asked to escort you," he said unemotionally. "Right," I replied, "Lead the way." We walked a short distance to the upper floor which opened into a comfortably sized oval office, in the centre was an exceptionally massive computer screen which at the moment displayed the picture of a disembowelled body. Around the screen, about 7 agents were seated and in front of it I recognized Gideon and a woman (surprise, surprise) with long blonde hair.

"Elena, Hotch we've been waiting for you," Gideon said with what I had discerned to be his characteristic smirk. After a quick round of introductions, thank god for my photographic memory, Agent Johnson who I learned was the liasions officer began her briefing. "This is Janet Sullivan, 28 years old, a resident of Indiana Town, Tennessee. She was found this morning on the banks of a swamp adjacent to her house. The coroner puts time of death at 2100 hours the day before, cause of death is asphyxiation. However, the slashes on her body were made peri-mortem, this led to massive internal haemorrhaging but not death. According to forensics, the unsub waited atleast 3 hours before finally killing her. Janet is the third victim in the area within a span of two months. The locals have already started believing in the existence of a serial killer, Indiana Town Sherriff's office has requested our assistance."

"The M.O. of the unsub is not consistent," said an agent I recognized as Derek Morgan. "That is correct, an unsub either wants to exact a depraved sense of pleasure from torturing the victim or wants to end the victim's life as quickly as possible, the latter being a sign of remorse. This unsub reflects both these qualities, almost like he started out with torture and then couldn't take it," Gideon mused. "Atleast we know that this wasn't a sex crime," Hotch interjected. "We cannot say that for sure," I didn't realize when I had opened my mouth. All eyes were on me and I was mentally slapping myself. I took a breath, this was ridiculous, sex crimes were what I specialized in and I knew what I was talking about. "A rape case or any other form of penetrative violence are not the only crimes that can be categorised as sexual crimes," I continued more confidently, "Most often crimes are committed against women to assert power. When a man feels inadequate sexually, his impotency can have an outward projection. That is why almost 60% of women are stabbed to death. The knife in this case can be possibly viewed as a phallus substitute. This could be an act of power and by extension, a sex crime."

"Can you definitively label it as such? Agent Rivers?" Gideon prodded. I looked up at him and instantly realised that this was a test. "No," I answered, "We know too little to categorise the crime in any way other than murder ofcourse." Gideon gave me a slight smile and I realised that I had completed the first step. Johnson gave us a few more details regarding the case and we were asked to pack for the trip to Tennessee. I found myself staring at the picture on the screen, there was something amiss about the body and I just could not figure it out. The victims face was completely obliterated due to accelerated decomposition courtesy of the swamp. Everything had started to rot except her eyes which were a shocking blue colour and were wide open, in fear. A quick scan of the body gave me an approximate measure of her measurements. She was an athletic woman of medium height and judging from her toned arms, she worked out quite often. "She would've been difficult to subdue," I murmured under my breath, or so I thought. "Anything you'd like to say Agent Rivers?" Gideon asked. "No sir." "Fine, wheels up in an hour, pack your essentials, I have a feeling this will be a long trip."

I heard the shuffling of chairs and everyone started leaving. I, however could not move and was still staring at the photograph. Suddenly, I realised that I did not even remember her name and that never happens with me. Already she was the victim to me and nothing more, that thought chilled me a little. Janet Sullivan, her name is Janet Sullivan, I repeated in my head over and over again. I willed myself not to overlook the human cost that these crimes exact. _"Your biggest weakness is your lack of empathy to fellow humans. You alienate your own feelings and in the process alienate others as well," _Dr. Foreman had said that I could will my brain to be empathetic by constantly reminding myself that everything has a human cost. "Janet Sullivan, 28 years old, 43 kgs; Janet Sullivan, 28 years old, 43 kgs," I started chanting her vitals like a mantra over and over again in my head. Suddenly I looked up to see a pair of keen grey eyes staring at me, I didn't realise that I had been chanting aloud under my breath. It seemed like Hotch and I stared at each other forever, in an empty room, alone, save for a pair of tortured and haunted blue eyes.


End file.
